


Halflings and their Prowess

by lucradiss



Series: MCYT Medieval AU [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Gen, Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29579706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucradiss/pseuds/lucradiss
Summary: Phil has sons. He never thought he'd feel this much love for another human being before, let alone three.--or; Phil is a good father and a good king
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Darryl Noveschosch & Phil Watson, Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: MCYT Medieval AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143413
Comments: 5
Kudos: 115





	Halflings and their Prowess

**Author's Note:**

> We're back in the original timeline! This is set right after the first fic. I'll probably jump around timelines so I can flesh out the story, but yeah. I'll specify in the beginning notes of every fic where exactly the work is set. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

"Now come on, mate. We've made hundreds of deals over the years- when have you ever known me to not pay due debts?"

The Lyvan man in front of Phil rolled his goat-ish yellow eyes, crossing his arms defensively. "Never, but this war is worth the crown's weight in gold. I only have so much to give, and I don't know how you're going to generate all of this, much less with interest."

Phil sighed. "You just have to trust me, Schlatt. I always find a way, don't you worry about me."

The hybrid cracked a grin, a pierced, floppy ear twitching on the side of his head. "It's not you I worry about, Your Grace. It's my gold."

"I wouldn't expect any different." Schlatt had always been a dear friend of Phil's, ever since they were younger. They'd fought in wars together, both on the same and on opposing sides, and after everything, all of their past hardships and calamities, they remained close. Phil wouldn't have it any other way. A servant girl came through one of the side doors with a pitcher of wine.

"Wine, your grace? M'lord?"

Schlatt rolled his eyes and Phil dismissed her with a wave of the hand, and the girl bowed to the men and departed. Schlatt huffed. "How do you deal with that all the time? All these servants, simpering and sniveling like sheep; 'My lord' this, 'my lord' that. Can't even take a shit without them crawlin' over each other to wipe your ass. You can't trust any of 'em."

Phil chuckled. "It's a part of the job. It took some getting used to, of course, but you learn in time. Besides, it's not the servants I need to trust."

"You don't _need_ to trust anybody," Schlatt provided, some of the cynicism from when he was younger coloring his tone and reminding Phil of years past. "If you don't trust anyone, you'll never be betrayed. Keep your expectations nonexistent and you'll never be surprised."

Phil smirked at his ram-horned friend. "Aye, but a life with no surprises would prove incredibly dull, would it not?"

Schlatt smiled back at that. "Ah, I guess so."

Phil regained his courteous, host-like demeanor once more. "Do you need anything for your journey back to Lyve? Provisions, wine? I've heard the drink they have on those ships is swill." Schlatt raised his hand in refusal and stood, putting his hands in his pockets and looking down at Phil, who sat still at his desk.

"No, but many thanks, Your Grace. I may go investigate that spectacle I've always heard about the North before I head out, though. The resurrecting girls."

Phil smiled exasperatedly. Resurrecting girls was a... ah, delicate way of putting it. A race had begun residing in the North of Esempee as of late who could seemingly die and come back from death as many times as they wanted to. He'd heard of them- dubbed by the citizens the 'immortal whores'- as well, and they'd migrated into Hardacore, to the brothels near the palace. They'd kill themselves when they started growing older and homelier and would start back at the unripe young age of twenty, ready to start again.

"Yeah, I'd supposed you'd want to see that. Enjoy, Schlatt. They're great."

He barked a laugh and leaned over the desk, slapping Phil on the shoulder animatedly. He then exited the room, his tell-tale saunter punctuated by a faint limp he'd acquired from an injury in a past war. Phil had always told him not to drink before fights, and the horned drunk went and got himself a steel-tipped arrow to the thigh because of it. Phil had gently admonished him after while helping to tend to the wound. _"You're a coward and a fool, Schlatt."_ He'd scolded, the worried tears in his eyes shining in the waning candlelight as he applied ointment to Schlatt's thigh to stave off any infection. _"Such a damned fool."_ The man on the table had just huffed a leather-muffled, pain-filled laugh and left it at that, the silence filling the tent almost as viscous and soupy as the humid air they'd fought in.

The ram hybrid strolled through the chamber doors just as a blond-haired lightning bolt sped his way through the hallway, striking Schlatt as the older man stepped into the hallway. Tommy fell to the floor with a yelp; Phil swore and stood, moving around his desk.

"Schlatt, so sorry, that's-"

"I didn't know you had a kid, Your Grace." Schlatt crouched down to Tommy's level and cocked his head. "What's your name?"

Tommy sat up and rubbed his head, looking at Schlatt in awe. "Tommy, M'Lord." Schlatt laughed at the honorific.

"You're more of a lord than me, your little grace. I'm just a man with far too much money and a stroke of generosity."

"You've got horns!"

Even not able to see Schlatt from behind, Phil could hear the grin in his voice. "Yeah, kid, I do."

Phil looked up when he heard another of his wards running down the hallway, calling for his brother.

"Tommy!" Wilbur yelled. "Tommy, where are y- Oh, Aether!"

The brunet spotted them with horror and sped up, taking Tommy by the cuff of his shirt and standing him up and bowing. "My lords, I apologize deeply for the faults of my brother. Now _bow, Tommy, you little shit, or I swear to the Aether and all the gods-_ "

Schlatt cut them off with a chuckle, standing once more and putting his hands on his hips, looking at Phil with incredulity. " _Two_ kids, your grace? I never pegged you for the type."

"Ah... try three. Schlatt, these are my wards. Tommy, you just met, and the boy next to him making him grovel in your absolute _holy_ presence is Wilbur. Techno's probably somewhere training or in the libraries reading."

"Three! Well, three future kings by the looks of it!" He grinned down at the two boys in front of him. Tommy grinned back, toothily as ever, and the ever so stony Wilbur finally cracked a smile when he knew he wasn't going to get in trouble from his brother disrespecting the lords. Phil had never guessed Schlatt would be so good with kids- he'd never had guessed Schlatt even liked them. Don't judge a book, he supposed.

"Well, I'm off. Give this" he pressed a gold coin into Phil's palm with a grin, "and my regards to your other son for me, Your grace. And for these two," He said. He pulled out two other gold coins and gave it to each of the boys. "Buy yourselves some drink, or something. You seem old enough."

And with that and a wave of the hand, Schlatt stalked away, hands stuffed into his pockets in a way no Esempian lord would ever dream respectful. Phil sighed and shook his head, looking down at his wards. Tommy bit onto the coin, probably mimicking the adults he had seen in the past testing if it was real, but Wilbur only clutched the coin in his hand, looking after the Lyvan with something in his eyes that Phil couldn't decipher.

"What can I buy with this, Phil?" Tommy had asked, pulling Phil's attention from the other boy. He cracked a grin.

"Definitely not drink."

\---

Phil was writing the often repetitive correspondence to one of his many holds when a knock at the door startled him. He was almost glad for it- the ravens would still be there after his conversation, and the words he was writing always seemed to blend together in his mind after a while of the work. He put down his quill and sat straight, trying to look as kingly as he could in the robes he donned which, admittedly, was glorified sleepwear, and called for the person to enter.  
He caught the gold of one of the man's eyes before taking in the rest of him, and immediately tensed, as all people seemed to in his visitor's presence. A foreigner from Hypixel, a famous sellsword despite having no name, called by two letters and some numbers.

"Ser GB80," Phil greeted, forcing a smile onto his face and wondering how he managed to keep his tone so level. "What might I be able to do for you?"

Phil had hired GB80 a couple of weeks after first taking in his three boys. Techno had begun fighting with the master of arms in the castle, and despite the man supposedly being the best of the best in Esempee, Techno quickly surpassed his skill and stunted. Though the boy never complained, Phil could see a restlessness in Techno every time they sat down to eat dinner, a dissatisfaction whenever he was asked about his training and insisted it was good, a simmering longing for more whenever he looked at the knife that was supposed to be used to cut food. So, naturally, Phil sought out someone better.

The man chuckled, his inflection warm despite his aura. "I'm no 'ser', your grace, but thank you for the sentiment all the same," He said, a smile on his pale face. "And I haven't come here for any matter concerning myself."

Phil cocked his head slightly, motioning for GB to sit down in a chair adjacent to his desk before leaning on it, hands clasped. The man sat, leaning forward similarly to how Phil was posed.

"Well, if you will." GB nodded.

"It's about your ward, your grace. Technoblade."

Phil stiffened. Had the boy done something wrong? Was he hurt? Had he hurt others? GB seemed to pick up on Phil's distress because he put his hands up. "No, no, he hasn't done anything, don't worry." Phil sighed in relief at this.

"Spit it out, then. Don't keep me in suspense," He chided playfully. "How's Techno been doing?"

"Your grace, that boy..." GB seemed to struggle to find the right words. "There's something about him. I-I don't know how to describe it. Even things I've taken years to master he picks up within hours, minutes, even. It's like he was born to hold his sword."

Phil grinned. "That's wonderful news!" He realized the sellsword wasn't smiling back. "...What's wrong with it?"

The man sighed. "He... has a habit of losing control. It might be due to his halfling blood, or because he spent so much time fighting for survival, but he has animalistic tendencies that need to be worked on. If put under too much stress, he... blacks out, so to speak, and attacks in a blind rage. It is, in all honesty, quite a spectacle."

"Then work on them with him...?" Phil's order lilted upward like a question, and GB80 looked askance, as if not wanting to respond. "It's okay, please explain the situation, GB."

GB80 clasped his hands. "I can't. It's... It's a matter of trust. I've seen this before, Your Grace, and if I were to step in he could, with the extent of both his and my skill level, seriously hurt me or himself. He needs to be talked down from it by someone he trusts."

"So you're saying it needs to be me?"

GB80 bit his lip. "Yes, Your Grace. Now, the other option is that we can stop training altogether and he can pursue another field of work. Many men I've seen with this affliction have made brilliant maesters. You may want to talk to him about dropping anything relating to combat. Otherwise, I can train him, but you need to be present during more... intense sessions. Just in case."

Phil sighed, clasping his hands on his desk. "Just in case. Okay. Thank you. I will speak with him and let you know."

"Of course, Your Grace."

GB80 stood, bowed, and walked out of the room, leaving Phil to ponder over what was said.

\---

"Techno!"

The boy looked up from his book, making sure to close it so the wind didn't blow his bookmark- bookmark was an overstatement, it was just an old rotting leaf he'd picked up from the dirt that morning- away, seeing his father (he wondered if he could even call Phil his father yet, it had only been months) walking toward him with a kind smile on his face. Phil had been all kind smiles since the moment Techno and his brothers arrived to the castle; all gentle words and helpful advice, helping them with whatever they needed and always making time if they asked after him. Techno had gotten terribly sick a couple of weeks after moving in with Phil- Grand-Maester Bad had told him it was probably a mixture of stress and the new environment he found himself in, coupled with an immune system that, frankly, wasn't used to Esempee- and the older man had dropped all of his responsibilities just to help take care of him. Techno couldn't remember the last time he'd been looked after with such care. He couldn't remember if he ever had.  
In any case, he saw that kind man walking toward him and he immediately stood, adjusting the glasses Phil had gotten made for him and brushing off his clothes; treating him with the respect one should treat a king. Phil laughed as he approached.

"You needn't be so stiff, lad," He chuckled, putting his hands behind his back and watching Techno with a fond gleam in his eye. Techno relaxed some.

"Sorry."

Phil waved him off with a smile. "You needn't worry about apologies, either. You've done nothing wrong. I've just come to speak with you- is that alright?"

Techno blinked, then nodded. Whenever Phil wanted to do something with him, he'd always ask first. He wondered why the man gave him the option to refuse- he wanted Techno to comply, so why not just demand it? Phil was so complicated. Techno couldn't fathom it.

The king gestured for Techno to sit back down where he'd been, and upon the boy doing so he sat in front of him, cross-legged and leaning forward onto his feet, wings behind him shifting for him to sit comfortably. It was quite jarring to see- this man, a king, who Techno had seen ordering the death of traitors with a face of stone, sitting down here in a position almost like a child's and giving him the softest smile he'd ever gotten from any other person. There was a wariness in his eyes, too- Techno wondered what this powerful man was wary about. 

"I spoke with your combat tutor, Techno." Phil's smile slowly faded into an apologetic half-frown. "We need to talk about your sessions." 

Techno felt a pit forming in his stomach. Was he not learning fast enough? Was he doing badly? He thought he was progressing quickly through Lord GB's lessons, and he thought that he was doing it well. Had he messed up somewhere that he didn't remember? He swallowed hard.

"What... What did I do?" Techno asked nervously. Phil immediately put his hand up.

"No, you didn't do anything, mate. It's about your... blackout problem, I guess you could call it."

Oh. Techno looked down to his hands, fidgeting in his lap, ashamed. 

"We need to reassess if combat is something you're willing to continue to work at, knowing you have this affliction. I've spoken to Grand-Maester Bad about it- he says it can be treated with elixirs and magic, and can be worked on in the field as it happens, but it will take a long time and will be very hard," Phil said, trying to lower his head to meet Techno's eyes, giving him a small smile. "Your tutor tells me he's seen this problem before, and that he cannot help you unless you have someone you trust, like me, around while you do real sparring. If you don't wish to go through all of that, which I wouldn't blame you for because that seems like a real ordeal, he says that there are many other things you can put your talents to."

Techno looked up and opened his mouth, immediately ready to say he wanted to keep working at his combat, but Phil shushed him gently. "Think about it, mate. This is a big decision, and while you know you can quit this anytime you want, it's a huge undertaking and even the beginning will be a definite uphill climb," he said. "Sleep on it- you can tell me what you want tomorrow."

And with that, Phil stood, gave Techno a last ruffle of his long hair, and left, once again flattening his wings to his back. Techno hated that he had to do that.

Techno sighed and leaned back onto the tree he'd been sitting on, closing his eyes. He opened them when he heard a bird twittering overhead, and watched it intently. It flew from branch to branch, singing a lilting, chirpy song, and then flew east. He bit his lip. He was so ready to agree to keep fighting, but Phil was right. He needed to think.

He closed his eyes. The Blood God whispered in his ear.

\---

As Phil walked away, he breathed a sigh of relief. Techno didn't seem to take the news too bad- though that could just be due to his stoic demeanor. He hoped he wasn't too hard on the boy. Despite having told him virtually nothing of his past, Phil could easily recognize that Techno had been through a lot. All of these boys have. Phil wanted to give them a home; somewhere they could, for the first time, feel safe. He hoped he could.  
In any case, he knew Techno would make the right decision for himself. He trusted the boy- whether it be fighting or whatever else he wanted to do, Phil knew Techno would do it well. There was a certain trait in this young halfling boy that made him... different than the other two. It wasn't about toughness or intellect, both of which he excelled in, but a particular aura that surrounded him. That of a king's. Phil had noticed this on their first meeting- even through grime and snarls shone the light of someone who could rule. Grand-Maester Bad had even picked up on this, and suggested that he begin studying the art of leadership. Phil was inclined to agree- he would mold this boy into a fine leader, a just king, and a good man. 

He hoped Techno would accept the position when the time came. (Not that he truly had a choice in the matter, though.)

He greeted Eret, a member of his kingsguard, before walking back inside, the man in tow. Bad stood in the throneroom, speaking with a servant who helped him with his research, and turned around when he heard the door opened. He shooed the girl, probably telling her to go do whatever he wanted her to do, and hurried over to the king.

"Your Grace"- he gave a small bow- "how did he take it?"

"Not horribly," Phil responded, walking forward and sitting on the steps that lead up to his throne. The seat was terribly uncomfortable, the cushions that were once probably soft and plush worn and hardened from age and wear. "He's going to think about it and get back to me tomorrow."

Bad nodded. "That's wise. This is an important matter."

"Aye."

Phil turned, looking at the throne. Bad followed his gaze. 

"There's something about that boy," Bad commented, looking back down at his king. Phil looked back at him. "He would make a good king, Your Grace."

"He _will_ make a good king. I will see to it."

"And I will do whatever I can to help," Bad responded, tail flicking contentedly. "Just as I helped the king before you grow into his role. I had hoped to guide his own children, but..."

Phil chuckled. "Aye, I know. Old man was like a father to me; of course, I know."

"Yes, of course."

The king sighed. "I have a feeling this will all work out," He said with a smile, looking out the throneroom window, seeing a tuft of pink in the distance climbing a tree and smiling as Wilbur ran from a door to meet his brother, Tommy in tow. He could hear their voices in his head, Tommy shrieking playfully, Techno making good-faithed, empty threats, and Wilbur scolding them afterward. "My boys will do great things."

"You speak of them as if they're your sons."

Phil looked back at his Maester and smiled a little wider. "In a way," he said, "they are. I haven't wed, and at this point, who would want to? If I kept going on the path that I was going, I would have no heir. While this isn't exactly... conventional, it clears up any doubt that my line will continue upon my death, and from the moment I met them, these kids have felt like my blood."

"I can see that. The way you look at them, if I may show insolence, is different than any way I've ever seen you look at anyone."

"How so?"

"There's love there, Your Grace. So much love."

Phil smiled and looked back outside. "I'm glad it shows."

\---

"We wait."

George frowned. "But they're vulnerable now! You heard what Eret said- he's going soft for those little rats he has scurrying around the castle. And waiting means the twerps get older- for all we know Philza's already chosen an heir and begun training it! We need to hit hard now, with everything we've got."

"Yeah," Sapnap agreed. Dream silenced them both with a glare they could feel even under the mask he wore. The tent was hot and tensions were even hotter. He knew his men were itching to fight, but Dream knew better. He knew when to jump on the chance to battle and knew when to wait. Now was that time. 

"We wait," He repeated. "We _want_ those children on the throne. A young king is manipulated with more ease than it would take to kill the current. He will fall in time, and it will be to our hand, but you must have patience. Yes, they're vulnerable now, but vulnerable in spirit is worthless when they have four times as many men than we'll ever have. And on top of that, one of them could pose a real problem."

"The great Dream, anxious about a child?" George teased. "It's, what, eight or nine, now?"

"I heard one of the kids is a Hypixelian halfling," He continued, not paying George any mind. "That wouldn't pose an issue, but I had a bad gut feeling about it, so I did some digging and got a profile on him. There were some glaring things, like his appearance, but in the grand scheme of things that could be chalked up to coincidence. What couldn't be, though, was the name he's going by, Technoblade, along with all of those other things. I heard several years back about a child with that name in Hypixel's royal family 'dying'"- he raised his fingers to air-quote his words- "but it didn't really add up. This could be that same child."

George went pale. "Oh, shit."

Sapnap looked between them with confusion. When nobody looked to him to explain, he threw his hands up. "What the fuck does that mean?" He asked harshly. The two looked at him, George with a hand to his mouth and Dream looking grim.

"Do you know anything about Hypixelian culture, Sapnap?" When the pyromancer shook his head, Dream nodded. "There's a closed religion in Hypixel exclusive to people allegedly chosen by an entity called the Blood God. You may only know it as the sigil of the royal family's house, but the reason it was chosen for that sigil is because every single person in the royal family, from the dawn of their existence, has always been chosen by the Blood God to join this little... cult, I guess you could call it."

Sapnap folded his arms. "So they were chosen by some shitty, bunked-out god- who cares? So was I- big whoop."

"This is different, Sapnap," George interjected. "The Blood God is fully active in the lives of the people he's chosen, and the last time it chose a halfling, they single-handedly decimated a country with the power they were given."

"That's bullshit, what country?"

"It was called Hermit," Dream responded. 

"I've never heard of it...?"

"Exactly."

"Oh, shit."

"Oh shit indeed," Dream said. "And a good reason to bide our time. I'm going to instruct Eret to keep an eye on that child- I need to see how he grows; I don't know whether I need to destroy him now before he develops, which isn't preferable as I want to control him in the future. He could be incredibly strong, and if I'm able to get this boy on my side? Well. We've won."

"So... we wait?" George asked, even knowing the answer, having gotten over his small fit of fear. Dream nodded.

"We wait."


End file.
